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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23055094">Erstwhile</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/dearprongs/pseuds/dearprongs'>dearprongs</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Lore Olympus (Webcomic)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Humor, Romance, Romantic Fluff</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 06:34:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,455</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23055094</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/dearprongs/pseuds/dearprongs</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <br/>
  <i>(adj.) for a time, at one time</i>
</p><p>* * *</p><p>Ares and his shitty day turned out to be a good week pretending he couldn’t read, all to impress the woman he swore to his mother he didn’t want to marry.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ares/Persephone (Lore Olympus)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>157</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Erstwhile</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/inconstancy/gifts">inconstancy</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Myth_is_a_Mirror/gifts">Myth_is_a_Mirror</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is for Fae, Tiff, and my other companions on the Persares ship.</p><p>Much love.<br/></p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Ares isn’t really sure how it started.</p><p>Of course he has heard of her. The mysterious Barley Mother heiress who has been sweeping competitions in Olympus. Swimming. Chess. Math. Even that darn spelling bee that was once the bane of Ares’ teenaged existence. She lives in the Mortal Realm, rumored to be doted upon constantly by Demeter that no other god in Olympus, apart from Hermes, has had the pleasure of meeting her.</p><p>“I heard she’s extremely accomplished at such a young age,” Hera says to him. “And absolutely lovely, darling.”</p><p>Ares angrily stabs his steak and frowns.</p><p>“Ma,” he grumbles. Family dinners are a nightmare. “Please don’t make me marry some goddess I’ve never met.”</p><p>“What makes you think she’d even consider you?”</p><p>“What do you mean?” Ares reels back, offended. “I can be pretty amazing.”</p><p>“You can also be a brat sometimes, not to mention you neglect certain standards of proper hygiene.”</p><p>“Mother, this is the smell of <em> war</em>.”</p><p>Hera raises her eyebrows.</p><p>“I’m just saying,” she continues, exasperated, “that you might not even meet her standards.”</p><p>“And what standard is better than your favorite child?”</p><p>Hera rolls her eyes. Really, she must be cursed. Her husband is a lying, cheating arse and his only, eligible, bachelor of a son is stubborn enough to acknowledge that she, Queen of the Olympian gods and Goddess of Marriage, knows better. Kore is a perfectly nice, perfectly lovely girl who would make a perfectly nice, perfectly lovely daughter in law. Now that she’s in an age for marriage, you’d think her war brat of a son would appreciate a fine, nice, lovely prospect of a wife. The age difference isn’t wholly bad either, and a son and a daughter of two traitors would make a fine marriage settlement.</p><p>Now, if only her son would damn cooperate.</p><p>“Don’t be so sure,” she scoffs at his obnoxious smirk. “She might rather be with Hebe instead of you.”</p><p> </p><p>* * *</p><p> </p><p>Ares is having a shitty day.</p><p>It is a shitty day in the shit hole of the mortal realm campaigning for a shit war for his shitty dad and he’s having a massive shitty day.</p><p>And now he’s falling.</p><p>Oh great gods, he’s falling. He is too exhausted to try anything else, and now he’s falling and with his shitty luck on this shitty day he will probably fall deep into a hell hole and die.</p><p>Immortal gods cannot die, but Ares always had a flair for dramatics.</p><p>He falls straight into a tree and the trunk pierces through his chest, sharp and thick, and Ares thinks this is <em> the </em> final straw after a series of brutal, grotesque (unnecessary, thinks Ares bitterly) battles he’s endured for the day before the rest of the world goes dark.</p><p>When he wakes, he sees a flower nymph blinking curiously up at his miserable state, and aggravatingly yells at her to help him.</p><p>“I’m not actually a nymph,” she says instead, big doe-eyes staring back at him with a bright smile plastered on her face. “Though I can see the confusion.”</p><p>Ares scowled.</p><p>“See!” she pulls her long, pink hair back behind, “My ears!”</p><p><em> You’ve got to be shitting me</em>.</p><p>“Oh my god, I’m so sorry to have caused offense,” he bites out sarcastically, “I’m just in immense physical pain because if you haven’t noticed<em>—</em>” he gestured at the large monstrosity impaled through his guts, “I'M T-BONED ON A FUCKING TREE!”</p><p>The flower goddess looks at him, pondering. “Hmm,” she purses her lips thoughtfully, one hand on her hip, “You do seem to be in a pickle.”</p><p>“Did you just refer to my major organs being shanked ‘as a pickle’??”</p><p>She doesn’t appear to be listening.</p><p>“Luckily for you,” she is saying, and Ares truly believes this may just well be the end of him, “You’re in good hands!”</p><p>Ares narrows his eyes.</p><p>“Here we go!”</p><p>She lifts her arms, small and frail, and the tree trunk lifts him off the ground before it vanishes in a ray of light.</p><p>Then in a split second, Ares falls right on the ground, and something inside of him finally snaps.</p><p>She leaves off crying after he rages in a fit of anger, and Ares immediately feels bad. </p><p>“Wait!” he calls after her, but to his dismay, she is already gone. When he notices that his wound is healed, he realizes who<em>—</em>and more importantly, <em> what—</em>she really is.</p><p><em> A fertility goddess hasn’t been born in years</em>.</p><p>Ares makes it his mission to get to know her.</p><p> </p><p>* * *</p><p> </p><p>He sees her again the next day, sitting on a soft blanket, an apple on one hand, and a book resting on her lap. She has her hair up in intricate knots and braids that a man like him could never comprehend. Ares fascinatedly watches how her face twists and turns in a series of animated expressions as her eyes scan the pages, and he feels a soft tug in the monster that’s slowly growing inside his chest. </p><p>He wonders if she knows how lovely she is, the way her pink form stands out amongst the sea of green around her, how the white flower sticking amongst her intricate locks shines brightly with the sun, while simply sitting there, immersed in her reading.</p><p>“Hey! What are you doing?!”</p><p>Out of all reactions, her small fearful shriek was the last thing on Ares’s mind.</p><p>Dite used to tease him about stepping up his flirt game.</p><p>“Leave me alone!” she snaps, hastily picking up her things. Ares feels a flash of panic, <em> oh no no no, she can’t leave yet— </em>and decides to gather his thoughts together.</p><p>“Come on, don’t leave,” he pleads, quickly taking her hand in his own, which is significantly smaller than his. “If anyone can understand you, it’s me.”</p><p>She pauses to look at him, pressing her lips together.</p><p>“Please?”</p><p>“What do you mean?” she asks, unimpressed.</p><p>“You’re Demeter’s daughter right?” he inquires, trying to suppress the fluttering that is now starting to settle in the pit of his stomach. The same fluttering he felt when he first saw her, <em> truly </em> saw her for the first time, basked in glorious sunlight. “You must be.”</p><p>“Kore,” she hisses, and Ares finds her irritability even more endearing. “My name is Kore.”</p><p>“Great!” he replies in delight, shaking her hand. Finally, some formality. “I’m Ares!”</p><p>The fluttering from the monsters in his stomach starts hammering their way out of his rib cage, and Ares fights hard to appease them.</p><p>“You were raised here in the mortal realm, correct?”</p><p>“More or less.”</p><p>He immediately seizes this opportunity.</p><p>“I, too, have to spend an isolating amount of time here,” he closes his eyes in a dramatic fashion, down on one knee, feeling the symphony of birds and bees, a gust of wind rustled their way past the leaves, through his hair, and then his cape, billowing elegantly behind him as his armour glistens in the sun. “In this hell hole.”</p><p>Unfortunately for Ares, his enthusiasm was met with awkward silence.</p><p>Aphrodite was right, he needs to step up his flirting game.</p><p>“I still fail to see<em>—</em>”</p><p>Distracted, he dives in her bag and takes a bite out of one of the apples she’s brought for lunch.</p><p>“Hey! Get your meat mits off my stuff!”</p><p>Ares lies down on the grass, and puts on his best face. She snatches her bag from him, giving him furious glares that only pleases Ares further.</p><p>There’s wrath in this pink little spitfire.</p><p>Hmm.</p><p>“My father sends me here for very long periods of time to help ‘manage the wars’,” he explains nonchalantly. “But I’m pretty sure it’s because he’s ashamed of me.”</p><p>He didn’t mean to put off her mood with this bit, he assumes it’s typical information most people would simply understand about him. He is, after all, the God of War, and his relationship with his father hasn’t always been the best. </p><p>But Ares soon learns that Kore isn’t like anyone else he’s ever met.</p><p>“Oh,” she says softly, and much to Ares’s surprise, she sounds genuinely sad for him. “That’s... terrible.”</p><p>Ares looks at her, nonplussed.</p><p>“Would you like some of my lunch?” she suddenly asks, handing him a small pink lunch box that contains what Ares assumes is a bit of food she’s made herself.</p><p>“I won’t say no!” he cheers, eyes lit up like a five-year old because Ares is someone who can never say no to a home cooked meal. The monster in his heart starts pounding again, he can’t remember the last time someone’s shared something with him.</p><p>“Your wound healed really fast!” Kore points a finger at the ripped off patch in his suit of armor, “that’s lucky!”</p><p>“Haha.. yeah….” he falters, <em> does she really not know </em>? How odd. </p><p>Kore has aggravated him, confused him, and gave him sensations that roar and try to pound their way out his chest, and he is completely, blissfully, hopelessly lost. No one, <em> no one, </em>has ever pushed his buttons this far, has ever interested him much before, and beneath all that frail, pink exterior is a massive wrath that runs deep. All this in such a short amount of time.</p><p>Interesting.</p><p>The Daughter of Life is <em> interesting. </em></p><p>Oblivious to his thoughts, Kore is busy taking out two, three, <em> nay</em>, four books and sprawls them all around, humming to herself.</p><p>Ares’ stomach drops. Crap. She’s a reader. Possibly someone who has a way with words and is<em>—</em>he shudders<em>—</em>deep and complex. Ares suddenly sees flashbacks of the Olympus spelling bee that traumatized him from public speaking. </p><p>“You’ve got a lot of books here,” is what he chooses to start with. “You must sure love to read.”</p><p>“Oh, I do!” she says brightly. “Don’t you?”</p><p>Ares winces at the thought. Kore, thankfully, doesn’t seem to notice.</p><p>“Gosh, this is so embarrassing,” he says, staring off into a distance because Ares is fully committed in this monologue he’s about to do. “I don’t actually know how to read.”</p><p>He sneaks a glance at her and sees her face has softened, and she’s watching him intently.</p><p>He keeps going.</p><p>“I guess teaching me was too hard so everyone gave up on me. I suppose that’s why I’m so...” he lets out another dramatic sigh, “moody and misunderstood.”</p><p>To Ares’s credit, the former bit was partly true. Hera, for some reason, had high hopes for her eldest son to be an Olympus champion on all fronts, to which Ares succeeded… except for that <em> damn </em> spelling bee. It’s not that he didn’t know how to spell: it’s the standing in the middle of the stage, a spotlight practically meant to blind contestants’ eyes, declaring each letter towards leering judges that Ares has a problem with. Hera hired one of the best private tutors to coach him for his competitions, but in one session Ares lost his patience on trying to grasp some word, which led to an unfortunate incident that resulted to him burning his tutor’s hair. Hera came home to a screaming centaur prancing out the door declaring he’d never teach again, and she finds her son in the kitchen, calmly munching on donuts. Fourteen tutors later they all ended up the same: burnt hair, flung out the second-story window, and one poor satyr was even tied up to a tree. No one in Olympus wanted to coach the Queen’s raging teenaged son, and Ares grew up well into adulthood without ever having won a single spelling bee in all of Olympus history.</p><p>Who the fuck cares what <em> Autochthonous </em> is anyway?</p><p>Who the fuck cares about spelling bees, in general?</p><p>“G-gave up on you...?”</p><p>“You can’t teach a dog old tricks, Kore.”</p><p>“But everybody has potential!”</p><p>He sighs again, louder, for more effect.</p><p>“I know!” Kore exclaims, “I could teach you!”</p><p>Ares grins triumphantly. “Really?” he says, eyes shining, “What an amazing idea!”</p><p>“I only have a small window of time to myself so meet me here at 11 am every day, okay?”</p><p>The thought of spending time with Kore alone sends the monster in his chest into a full somersault, and Ares enjoys his victory for the day.</p><p> </p><p>* * *</p><p> </p><p>The next day, Ares comes in early. Kore said to meet at 11, but Ares woke up as soon as the sun came in. He made sure to take a bath in the nearby river, tried his best to tame his hair, and picked up a few fruits along the way. He doesn’t know why he’s making an extra effort, but his steps have been jittery and he can’t seem to wipe the grin off his face.</p><p>Kore finally comes in, carrying a huge stack of books. Ares manages to give her a pathetic wave. Her long hair flows freely, cascading down her back like waterfalls, and she’s wearing a crown of peonies and roses atop her head.</p><p>“Hey,” she greets him, setting down the books on the grass with a loud thump. Ares catches a whiff of her scent<em>—</em>jasmine, roses, and vanilla. “I brought my favorites, I hope that’s okay!”</p><p>Ares gapes at the books in front of him, a bead of sweat slowly trickles down the side of his face. Out of all lies, why did he have to go with being illiterate? Kore, once again, bright and optimistic and all things lovely that she is oblivious to a world of pain, are slowly opening them in front of him, and Ares slowly feels a small wave of panic seeing some complicated looking writings in some of the pages. In what appears to be a small font.</p><p>“Err<em>—</em>”</p><p>He would rather be swallowed by the earth right now. Completely. Whole. Or possibly be impaled once again.</p><p>“So I thought we can start with some really great epics,” Kore is saying, as Ares contemplates different gruesome ways to die, “there are some things here that I thought you might like, seeing as, well, you’re the God of War. Or this one! A Song of Ice and Fire has some battle sequences<em>—</em>”</p><p>Oh.</p><p><em> Oh</em>.</p><p>She brought books she thinks might be of interest to him. That was... thoughtful of her.</p><p>Still, Ares feels immensely overwhelmed.</p><p>“Kore.”</p><p>“<em>—</em>it’s told from different perspectives of the characters which makes it more in depth, really<em>—</em>”</p><p>“Kore.”</p><p>“<em>—</em>and it shows us how everyone is morally grey, you know? There is no right or wrong and that ultimately, our actions define who are, no matter what our intentions<em>—</em>”</p><p>“Kore!” he yelps, and Kore drops the (obscenely large) book in her fright.</p><p>“Err,” he starts sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. “Not that I don’t think it’s interesting... I mean, <em> I do</em>! It’s just<em>—</em>”</p><p>“Oh, I’m sorry!” she says, looking put down. “I mean, of course, how silly of me. We should start with some basics first!”</p><p>Ares knots his eyebrows. This girl apologizes for the silliest things. But starting with the ‘basics’ is definitely a lot easier than reading the intimidating series of (thick, definitely thick) books that she’s brought with her for the day.</p><p>“Right!” he says, clapping his hands together. “Let’s do that! Basics<em>—</em>yeah.”</p><p>And for the next hour or so, Kore drafts up some flash cards and they go through each and every letter in the alphabet, which predictably, is more of what Ares had in mind. She shares lunch she’s made and brought with her (“You never told me what food you like, but I hope this will be fine!”) and Ares gives her whatever was left of the apples and pears he’s picked up in the morning. She’s also brought some baklava, which she proudly claims is the best batch she’s baked yet, and Ares munches happily in content, vaguely wondering how his week would be like had they never met.</p><p>When it is time for her to leave, Ares tries his best not to look too disappointed. She hands him the cards and sternly (but adorably) tells him to practice, he promises her he will, and she tells him they’ll pick up where they left off tomorrow.</p><p>As Ares waves goodbye he thinks, there’s an ache inside his chest where his heart used to be, and he wonders if, somehow, she’s already brought it with her.</p><p> </p><p>* * *</p><p> </p><p>Spending time with Kore, much to Ares’ surprise, is quite easy.</p><p>She is easy to get along with, and it wasn't long until Ares is comfortable to joke around her, laugh, and even thread barriers of personal space, which Ares prefers a lot, since Kore always smells nice a fresh patch of daisies.</p><p>He suddenly thinks he shouldn’t have gone with the illiterate lie, for that kind of lie tends to catch up pretty fast, then he’d be forced to stop spending time with her. He should’ve gone with something more drastic, like short-term memory loss, or being inflicted with a curse and he has to hang out with a flower goddess until the end of his days.</p><p>Ares takes joy in pretending there are certain letters he doesn’t get, only to test the limits of Kore’s patience, but she seems so very determined to make Ares the most literate god in the mortal realm. As long as she stays close to him and he can catch whiff of her scent, Ares is fine.</p><p>Soon enough, Ares also finds out what triggers Kore's temper beneath all that optimism.</p><p>“I would impale you with a bigger tree and leave you in here to rot.”</p><p>“Wow you really are as lovely as they say you are.”</p><p>“They?” this piques her interest, bright eyes sparkling that sends tugs in Ares’ heartbeat. “Who on sweet baklava do you mean by ‘they’?”</p><p>There it is again, Ares grins. That spark. A potential for anger.</p><p>“Wouldn’t you like to know?” he teases, just to rile her up further. She <em> hmphs</em>! in frustration and turns her back on him. This only excites him more.</p><p>Beautiful Kore, the Goddess of Spring.</p><p>Perhaps his mother may be right after all.</p><p>Who knew.</p><p> </p><p>* * *</p><p> </p><p>“Shall we take a break?” Ares asks, lounging down the grass with his hands behind his head. “I, for one, would love to go for a swim.”</p><p>Ares has been working on his flirting all morning, and he hopes she’ll notice it a little bit.</p><p>“You should,” Kore quips, “you’re starting to smell.”</p><p>“Excuse me?” This bolts Ares upright, his face shows deep offense. Kore laughs.</p><p>“That was mean,” he says, frowning.</p><p>“Uhmm, yeah, I’m the mean one in this duo,” she says, “you’re the one who called me a dumb village girl (Ares winces) right after I helped you! And you finished all the bread yesterday.”</p><p>Ares has no regrets.</p><p>It was really good bread.</p><p>“Fine,” he sulks. “You know, you’re pretty mean for a flower goddess.”</p><p>Kore smirks.</p><p>“You don’t <em> know </em> any other flower goddess.”</p><p> </p><p>* * *</p><p> </p><p>“You’re lucky you get to do what you want. Go where you want.”</p><p>“Can’t you?”</p><p>Ares’s question was met with silence. </p><p>“No,” Kore hesitates, the flowers in her hair start falling out with the wind, “not really. I.. I have too many duties. Responsibilities. Mother expects a lot from me.”</p><p>Ares realizes that his initial lie has some inkling of truth after all. He does understand Kore, possibly even more so than the nymphs she spends her days and nights with. Both of them live their days in the mortal realm alone. All for duties and responsibilities expected from them.</p><p>“Can I tell you something?”</p><p>“Yeah, sure.”</p><p>“I think our lives are way too long for us to live miserably,” Ares declares, absent-mindedly starts plucking grass within his grasp.</p><p>“I don’t understand what you mean.”</p><p>“I mean,” he says, shifting towards her. “We should start a riot! Burn something! <em> Scream</em>.”</p><p>“I can’t do that!” she gasps, horrified. She softly hits him with the book on her hand. Ares lets out a hearty laugh. </p><p>“Dear sweet Kore,” he says, gently brushing his knuckles on her cheek. Blue flowers started sprouting on the side of her hair. “You have fire in you. Rage. I can feel it. You have the rest of your immortal days to fulfill whatever duty it is that you feel you must fulfill, but so little of your youthful days.”</p><p>Kore looks at him. Ares watches the swirl of color in her eyes.</p><p>“What’s the use of being an immortal god, if every once in a while, you don’t get to have fun?”</p><p>She looks away, uncertain. “Not sure my idea of fun is the same as your idea of fun,” she mumbles.</p><p>“Enlighten me, flower goddess,” he moves closer and rests his chin against his knuckles, that their noses are almost touching, “What is your idea of fun?”</p><p>Kore rests her chin against her knuckles as well, mirroring his stance. “Hmm.. something.. Something different,” she ponders. “Spontaneous. Maybe even… reckless?”</p><p>Ares’ eyes twinkle with interest.</p><p>“Anything that comes to mind?”</p><p> </p><p>* * *</p><p> </p><p>Out of all hobbies that could possibly be Kore’s favorite, skinny dipping was the last in Ares’s mind.</p><p>Not that he’s not complaining.</p><p>When she declares she wants to go for a swim, Ares didn’t think she was going to run across the grass path that leads towards the nearby lake, stripping every inch of garment that covers her body as she does so. Ares gapes helplessly as she unties her dress and jumps in, uncovered and bare, laughing jovially as she does so. She is small, and her body sends small ripples of waves and flower petals across the water. Ares could make out small white butterflies perched on her hair.</p><p>Aphrodite was beautiful. There was no doubt about it. Aphrodite embodies the main personification of beauty, hotness, and sex. But Kore… Kore was gentle and lovely and sweet. They were both on different spectrums of beauty, and Ares could not imagine Aphrodite feeling the waves of the water in complete innocence as a means to enjoy life as is, not for sex.</p><p>“Well?” Kore calls to him. “Aren’t you going to jump in?”</p><p>Aaah, fuck. Ares doesn’t know if he has enough control for this.</p><p>“I-I don’t think I can trust myself,” he stammers.</p><p>“Now who’s being a stuck up?” she taunts, waving her hands as if to challenge him. “Come on!”</p><p>Ares sighs. Fine, <em> fine</em>. He strips off his armor, feeling Kore’s eyes upon him. He would’ve put on a show for her if his hands weren’t trembling. When he is fully unclad, he runs to the lake and jumps. Kore lets out a shriek of delight as Ares splashes her with water.</p><p>They stay in there for a while; Kore teaches him a breath contest she plays with the flower nymphs (the idea of Kore, naked, swimming with flower nymphs is enough to send Ares to eternal bliss). He challenges her to a swimming race, wherein he beats her completely. She pouts for a second, frustrated (damn this girl must really like to win), but then she gets back at him by pulling his feet from down under and tips him upside down. He lets out a cry and declares that she’s a cheat, to which her response is a jovial giggle, asserting her win.</p><p>They take a quick break on the banks of the lake, her fingers tracing patterns around the grass, creating flowers around them. Ares lies on his back, watching clouds form shapes in the sky, perfectly content.</p><p>“You know,” he muses. “You might be the best tutor I’ve ever had.”</p><p>Kore laughs, and all Ares could think of is how much he likes the sound.</p><p>They jump into the lake again, and this time, when Ares challenges her to a swimming race, he lets her win.</p><p>As he watches her dance in her victory, Ares feels it: falling, falling, falling. Only, he’s not going to crash, there’s no tree to snap him in his wake. Yet there it is, the feeling, slowly, the rush in his brain, the beating of his heart. Being there in the lake, with the small pink flower goddess laughing and splashing around, he thinks he’s never felt this much… vibrancy before. This much <em> life </em> before.</p><p>He looks at Kore just to see her grinning back at him, looking smug and happy in her place. But there’s that smile too. The one that she has, different from all the others. Ares almost misses it. The smile that simply says: “You don’t know me at all.”</p><p> </p><p>* * *</p><p> </p><p>“—in my heart, there stirs a quiet pain, for unremembered lads that not again—”</p><p>Ares cannot move.</p><p>“—will turn to me at midnight with a cry. Thus in winter stands the lonely tree—”</p><p>Ares cannot speak.</p><p>“—Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one, yet knows its boughts more silent than before—”</p><p>Ares cannot even breathe, at least properly, without worrying he might shift Kore just a little bit.</p><p>“I cannot say what loves have come and gone—”</p><p>For he is afraid to ruin this, <em> this </em> perfect, fragile moment, of Kore gently reading out of her book, while Ares is contentedly restled beside her. She sighs dreamily, and Ares feels her warm breath in his cheek, the small vibrations in his bones. A small lock of hair falls into her eyes, and instinctively, Ares almost lifts his hand to brush it—but then she does it herself, and looks at him, smiling, her skin emanating against the sun as if she bathed in a pool of light this morning. </p><p>“—I only know that summer sang in me, a little while, that in me sings no more.”</p><p>“Wow,” he says breathlessly.</p><p>“I know,” Kore replies. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”</p><p>“It is,” Ares says, though he was barely listening to the poetry. Around them, the sun starts to set, and Ares wishes that it could last longer.</p><p> </p><p>* * *</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>“Wow, you’ve really come a long way in a week!” Kore tells him, beaming.</p><p>“Thanks, Kore,” Ares says, and he is surprised to know that he actually meant it. “Having a great teacher really helped.”</p><p>She is smiling so brightly at him she could give Helios a (literal) run for his money. Ares smiles back.</p><p>This is it.</p><p>Do something.</p><p><em> Say something</em>.</p><p>She’s not going to teach you anymore and you can’t stay here forever so <em> do something</em>.</p><p>“Do you want to make out?” Ares blurts out. Not exactly subtle, nor is it A+ flirting. But with time constraint, Ares supposes it’ll do.</p><p>“L-like a kiss?” Kore asks.</p><p>“Yeah,” says Ares.</p><p>When Kore nods, Ares immediately makes his move.</p><p>He pulls her close to him, one hand brushing her cheek gently, as he leans over and meets her lips with his. She is blushing, Ares could feel the heat coming from her. He deepens the kiss, slowly cupping her face with his hands, shifting her slightly for a better angle. Kore moans softly in his mouth. </p><p>For a seemingly innocent flower goddess, Kore is surprisingly good at this.</p><p>Her fingers sift through his hair, and Ares slips his tongue against hers, dropping her softly on the grass as she makes a soft noise. The slow kisses turned into something eager, more passionate, heated. Kore bites his lower lip and Ares kisses her again, as if he can never get enough of the way she tastes. He can’t keep still<em>—</em>his hands have an urge to wander, but he doesn’t know if Kore is ready for that yet. Instead, he moves his mouth to her neck, soft, lush, completely <em> brilliant </em> neck, and she makes that noise again.</p><p>“Is.. is this okay?” he mumbles, barely moving his lips, hands drifting to the garments hovering her chest.</p><p>Kore unties her dress in response. Ares couldn’t hold back the moan that escapes his throat.</p><p>His hands quickly cups her breasts as he kisses her again, deeper, harder. He rolls his hips against hers, every nerve in his body is sparkling. He didn’t notice that Kore’s hands have started to wander, too.</p><p>“Do that again,” she whispers breathlessly. Ares faithfully complies.</p><p>“Let me know when you want to stop,” he says, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I.. I don’t want to do anything you’re uncomfortable with.”</p><p>“I’m okay,” Kore whispers. “I want this. It’s okay.”</p><p>Ares doesn’t know how long they kissed, how long their hips rocked against each other, how long her hands have touched every inch of his chest and cradled his arms, how long he was cupping her and lavishing her neck. But soon, Kore takes his hands, places them in her inner thigh, and kisses him deeply again.</p><p>“Are you sure?” Ares breathes.</p><p>“Yes,” she murmurs against his lips.</p><p>He slips one, two inside her and she gasps in his ear, shivering under his grasp. Her breathing turns ragged, and she whispers his name repeatedly in his ear. Ares swallows her moans with deep, intoxicating kisses, steadying his rhythm.</p><p> </p><p>* * *</p><p> </p><p>Sometime later, they are still lying on the grass. Ares is scattering small kisses around her jaw and neck, his hands cupped around her face. Kore giggles, a little out of breath.</p><p>Ares thinks he wouldn’t mind staying that way forever. If only he could pretend to be something else… not illiterate, perhaps pretend he’s forgotten a lesson or two? Any other lie, if only to spend time with her much longer.</p><p>But then she looks over to her right and sees something that Ares has forgotten about until that moment.</p><p>“What.. what are you doing?” Ares asks, a little hazed, still lost in his lust-filled mind. Kore sits upright and—to Ares’s horror—grabs his yearly planner from his bag.</p><p>“Kore, wait!”</p><p>But it’s too late. </p><p>She’s already seen it.</p><p>“You have journal entries here that date back all the way to the beginning of the year,” she snarls, eyes quickly scanning through Ares’ messy scrawl, “You could read and write this whole time!”</p><p>“Kore, just let me explain—”</p><p>All week Ares has been curious about the flower goddess’ temper. All week he has been anticipating seeing her wrath.</p><p>But he never meant to be on the receiving end of it.</p><p>He was thinking about some mortals in another village or so.</p><p>“It’s not what it looks like,” he starts, but Kore is glaring at him furiously, her eyes almost into slits. “Okay, so it’s exactly what it looks like,” he falters. “—I was going to tell you eventually!”</p><p>She is still frowning. Reddening. Trembling with anger.</p><p>“Say something, would you? Anything?” Like forgiveness? Like can we just go back to  how we were because you’re a really good kisser?</p><p>“MOTHER!!!!!!!!!”</p><p>Oh, fuck.</p><p>Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.</p><p>“Okay, maybe not that!”</p><p>“Mother!!!!”</p><p>“Kore, stop!” he tries to cover her mouth, panicking. Vines started creeping their way around his skin.</p><p>“Son of Zeus!” a voice behind him growls, and Ares’s stomach plummets to the ground, an anchor dropped in the middle of the sea. He’s been through many battles, seen many gruesome facets of war. But for once in his life, in that moment, Ares truly thinks that this is the ultimate end of him.</p><p>“Oh no.”</p><p>Demeter shows up, tall, green and completely <em> furious,</em> her vines wrapped around Ares’s limbs and—hell—what is that on her hand? A pitchfork. Fucking hell it is a pitchfork. Definitely a pitchfork. A fucking large pitchfork.</p><p>“Ma, this smelly man is bothering me,” says Kore. Ares scowls.</p><p>“Go wait inside, Kore.”</p><p>“Yes, mother.”</p><p>Before she leaves, Kore looks over her shoulder towards Ares, tilts her head slightly, and blows him a kiss.</p><p>Ares’ heart pounds. There it is again, unmistaken, that smile: <em> “You don’t know me at all</em>.”</p><p>SMACK!</p><p> </p><p>* * *</p><p> </p><p>Hera is staring.</p><p>She is standing completely frozen in the doorway towards the Study, where she sees her son, her war brat of a son, perched on a large couch, with what appears to be a book in his hand.</p><p>“You’re scaring me.”</p><p>“What?” Ares says, barely looking up. He turns a page and Hera’s jaw slightly drops.</p><p>“It’s been a day since you got back and you’re…. <em> reading</em>. I haven’t seen you pick up a book ever since you set that poor centaur's head into flames.”</p><p>Ares smirks at the thought of the screaming centaur, rushing out of their house. He’s almost forgotten some fond memories he’s had in Olympus.</p><p>“It’s a Song of Ice and Fire,” he replies, shrugging.</p><p>“Oh.” Hera doesn’t really know what to say to that. Her son has showered, let Hebe sign his pink arm cast with no protest, and now he’s reading. For <em>pleasure</em>. Something significant definitely happened, but Hera doesn’t want to delve much into it. She decides to associate it with a newfound sense of maturity, which, thank Gaia, is about time. </p><p>“Is it any good?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Ares remarks, smiling to himself. “It has a lot of battle sequences.”</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The poem Kore was reading to Ares is: “What Lips My Lips Have Kissed, and Where, and Why” by Edna St. Vincent Millay</p><p>ASoIaF is by George R.R. Martin</p><p>--</p><p>Kudos and comments are flower petals. &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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